


First Kiss Since 1945

by lucymonster



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: SHIELD is counting on Rogers and Rumlow to make their cover story look real.





	First Kiss Since 1945

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Первый поцелуй с сорок пятого](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183993) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)

‘–doesn’t  _ feel  _ less conspicuous,’ Rogers says, as Brock steers him through the TSA checkpoint with a hand on the small of his back. ‘It feels like everyone’s staring at us.’

TSA. Fucking hell. Brock can’t remember the last time he travelled commercial, but the Secretary apparently feels that as far as this mission is concerned, an unlisted quinjet full of armed STRIKE operatives lacks something in the way of delicacy. And delicacy is the watchword of the day. Between his tight jeans and flimsy loafers, Rogers isn’t walking so much as mincing.

It works fine for their cover story. Brock isn’t about to complain.

‘Just ignore it and look happy,’ he says, leaning in to whisper the words in Rogers’s slightly reddening ear. ‘We’re newlyweds, remember? Fresh off the altar, eyes only for each other.’

‘I think we’ve been made. That guy in the blue shirt keeps looking me up and down.’

They are, in blue shirt guy’s defense, very tight jeans. They cling so tight to Rogers’s ass that Brock could slide his finger right up the cleft. He sticks to a casual squeeze instead. Rogers turns redder. Blue shirt guy stares, but not because he’s about to warn their mark.

They make it to their hotel without incident. Mission control, leaning into the story, have booked them the penthouse suite with vast city views and an in-room spa bath. The receptionist gives them their key with warm congratulations. Brock sweeps complimentary rose petals off the bed so he can dump out the contents of his Louis Vuitton suitcase and check that all his gear made it past security. SHIELD’s cloaking tech has outdone itself as usual. Everything’s there.

‘The mark’s on site,’ says Rogers, scowling at his phone. ‘Third floor conference room. No sign of security on the ground. If we move now–’

‘Easy there, big guy.’ Brock empties a box of condoms to retrieve the nano-bug tucked inside one of the foils. ‘What kind of honeymooners leave their suite as soon as they get in? You’re going to blow our cover if you don’t get in the spirit. Pop open a bottle. Unclench a little. Mission scenario doesn’t have us moving in until tomorrow.’

Later that evening, as he’s bending an unconvincingly resistant Rogers over the table – the ridiculous tight jeans strangle his thighs, leaving him off balance and easy to hold down – Brock bites his neck and leaves a line of purple bruises from beneath his ear down to his collarbone. ‘I’m developing our cover,’ he says in answer to Rogers’s protests. ‘As soon as everyone sees the hickeys, they’ll know we’re just harmless honeymooners after all. You get it yet? We have to sell this marriage or the mission’s going nowhere. The Secretary’s counting on us to make it look real.’

‘I still don’t see why that means we have to–’

Brock lines up his cock and thrusts inside. Rogers trails off into a guttural moan.


End file.
